willow's annual ball

it's willow's annual ball this evening so of course i am very excited.

knowing what to wear is really secondary to having someone to take.

i think last year i went solo and ended up in a bathtub (or so i am told) with an ouija board

and a small crowd of enthralled onlookers

who helped the little oracle tap out the words "time to go home".

this year i thought i'd aim higher so i got in touch through the usual channellers with someone i had a little to do with in my youth - the lady of shalott. happily she was in the mood for getting out and about and with the promise of a new gown to replace her somewhat damp and threadbare attire as well as a basket of hair care products and a primo hair straightener, she was entirely convinced that i was the man she would cut the rug with while hoovering back a few dozen canapes and chasing down a jug or two of veuve-clicquot

on september 30th.

here she is caught almost unawares as she rises from her cushion of ease to give me the first hug we've enjoyed in each others company in over thirty years!

"ah my girl", i warbled in her ear as we clasped each other about the upper back,

"you haven't aged a bit"

(although there was something of a musty odor about her that a little spritz of

chanel no. 5 would quickly put to bed).

oh by the way don't tell her - that's going to be my "going to the ball" gift (to both of us!)

now, as my well-armoured buddy lancelot once mused "she has a lovely face" and when you get her past her slightly melancholy and wary nature, she has an equally lovely personality.

while i'm thinking about it,

she does have a bit of a problem with mirrors so whatever you do make sure to stand between her and anything that she might catch her reflection in!

here's my date warming up her dainty but eye-catching dance moves in preparation for the big night!!!

it looks like it'll be a bare foot night - just like the one she and i last spent together up on bald mountain,

or was it blueberry hill.

not to worry.

i'll see you at the ball!

september evening rain

standing

under a sky

a monochromatic grey-blue

from foreground to background

lost in thoughts

rain sliding down the neighbour's roof

softens the brown tiles through the grey scale to mocha

not as soft

not as sweet

but holding

the warmth inside

everything growing

on the little bit of earth i live on

is slowing down

pulling inwards

muted colours

are blurred

in the half light

in the way that looking through

soft curtains

gentles the edge of sunlight

my thoughts

wriggle skywards

like fingers of smoke

from a fire

hidden well inside

john atkinson grimshaw the lovers

big decisions

as one small feature of a one hundred and twenty kilometre bicycle ride,

a decision had to be made by five riders - do we take the easier way that we had already taken to get to our midpoint, or take a route that has a hard climb with a really incredible view at the top and a steep descent with a very sharp stop at the bottom because of the very sketchy railway crossing?

then a really steep, thigh burning climb out of the valley.

oh, and there's a beautiful swimming hole - too cool at this time of year for swimming but still beautiful.....

my answer?

"i'm happy no matter what we choose because i'm right here right now."

top of the hill . . .

bottom of the hill . . .

sometimes grace just shines on a place, on a moment.

the dance inside

let yourself

be silently drawn

by the stronger pull

of what you really love.

all words by rumi translated by coleman barks

simple abundance

there's a simple abundance

in ferns

grasses

and little flowers

that

captivates me

in their

feathered

and dappled repetition

nothing. and then everything

i sat at the picnic table

with the door

right there

within metres

and the stars

above my head

frozen in place

yet dancing

(i could feel the movement)

and all around me

people

sat eating

at their own picnic tables

set on the grass

and all the while

with my back to the door

i was wondering

what's behind that door?

and i

(as has often been my experience)

came up with several

possibilities

because i saw the entirety

of the experience

as so much like

the trajectory of my existence

sitting on a stage

wondering

and i decided

that really

were i to open that door

there'd be nothing

nothing at all

not a hallway

or a landscape beyond compare

not a mirror

revealing me to my self

not a wish fulfilled

not a wormhole

to the next stage of my soul's existence

there'd be nothing.

and then

everything

late september

it's colder at night now

upstairs i can hear my son coughing

his september cold

everything returns

to itself

and waits

light glows

and then passes through

the softer colours

rainwebs

early morning

autumn rain

gathers on the webs

of countless

little spiders

a silk sky

filled with

water stars

and jewelled clouds

a deep field view

back to the beginning

again

so late

oh my little golden friend

how brave to appear

so late in the summer

when the nights are so chill

your children will give me purpose

and cause to remember you

when i walk through my gardens next year

the tattered flags

the tattered flags of a day

in the air

the songs of the tired

all-day birds

i saw in the light

and wish it well on its chariot journey

across the sky and back again

as it leaves behind

the salmon and bible-black clouds

of its passing

the slow drift in and away

a cloud

drifted over

hovered still

and held fast

the wind

blew through my garden

and the grasses

took it in and

waved golden fingers

that tugged and pulled

at the deep blue sheets of sky

and of course the russian sage

drew pale purple fingers

across the scattering clouds

scattering

oh yes

for all the while the sky

was crowding full

of stories

waiting to break

each beginning with the word

"evening"

waymarker

this beach is always a special place for me to walk

my father walked it

i find it interesting

that we both have tried to decode its mysteries

to understand and share

something of its cultivated rawness

to the degree that is possible it has been tamed -

if it is possible to tame water and rock

i think you can contain their mystery

perhaps even restrain some of their larger actions for a little while

but the subtle purpose and detail of their existence

carries on without concern

for those little interventions

for that's what they are

and what they will be

soft striations

imagine

on a warm summer's day

running your hands

over rock surfaces

such as these

feel the cool

hardness

of the shadowy

striations

the splash

of waves

spraying

small cold

exclamation marks of themselves

against your own

warm skin

inner glow

today i have seen

the charm, the beauty,

the unfathomable grace

of the face

that i was looking for.

i am bewildered by the magnificence

of your beauty

and wish to see you with a hundred eyes.

my heart has burned with passion

and has searched forever

for this wondrous beauty

that I now behold.

your fragrant breath

like the morning breeze

has come to the stillness of the garden

your effulgence

has lit a fire in my heart

and you have made radiant

for me

the earth and sky.

words excerpted from "looking for your face" by rumi

softly gilded

the muted

unlikeliness

of early evening light

in their gardens

flowers

are so much like

the lingering kiss

of lips

that

touch

without touching

a formless space

inside and around which

the depths

of eternity

form

stories

from seed

to flower

of sun and rain

and wind

and little visitors

and the unconditional care

of the gardener

whose soft voice

and kind hands

nurtures

the astonishing beauty

that is a flower

into

the fullness

of its presence

a heartfelt thankyou to my mum (ruth) and my aunt (margaret) who in so many ways bring beauty and goodness into my life, these flowers being among the many gifts they share with the world.

darkest dreaming

stay tonight

we'll watch the full moon rising

hold on tight

the sky is breaking

i don't ever want to be alone

with all my darkest dreaming

hold me close

the sky is breaking

i don't ever want to be alone

with all my darkest dreaming

hold me close

the sky is breaking

david sylvian

the gift from the manor (in summer)

not long before christmas of 2009

a gift arrived

from willow of the manor

an oleg cassini crystal paperweight!

in my letter of thanks to her

i included a commitment -

to photograph the crystal through the seasons.

here then

is summer.

cradled in the arms of the extravagantly scented and abundant russian sage.

my blessings and gratitude willow!!

to see the crystal in winter go here.

to see the crystal in spring go here.

as summer's end is nigh

when summer's end is nighing

and skies at evening cloud

i muse on change and fortune

from hill and cloud and heaven

night welled through lane and hollow

and hushed the countryside

and i with earth and nightfall -

they came and were and are not

all words excerpted from a. e. housman's poem: when summer's end is nighing